I'm No Hero
by wolfbane17
Summary: Characters of 24 comtemplate on what defines a hero. Drabbles with plenty of angst.
1. Jack

My first story in a loooooooooooooong while. Just had to post cause this idea for a random rabble was floating around my head for a long time, so please read and review.

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Jack Bauer was sitting in a moving van, looking out the window, wondering. He thought he heard a voice. Was someone talking to him? He turned to the other occupants of the vehicle, but none of their mouths were moving. Jack turned back to the window, lost in his thoughts.

"Jack? Will you please stop playing with that lighter? All the clicking is getting on my nerves."

Jack barely heard whomever it was that had talked. But he looked down at his hands anyway. He noticed that he was clutching a small, red lighter, turning the flame on and off with a click produced by his thumb. When had he gotten the object out? The fact that he couldn't remember should have been worrying but the CTU veteran couldn't manage to care.

"_I'm sorry Jack."_

"_Don't be. Believe me, it'll be a relief." _

How long ago was it that he'd uttered those words? How long had it been since he'd been rescued from China only to be traded off to terrorists?

Jack turned the lighter on again. Only this time, he was dumb enough to look at the small flame. The flickering fire sent him into a horrible memory…

There was pain. Kicking, screaming, punching, kicking. Jack tried desperately to shield his face and head but the rare hard boot made it past his defenses and struck him hard in the temple. His vision was blurry, he was beaten and bloodied, and there were probably a couple of things broken, but Jack didn't say a word. A face suddenly appeared in front of his own and Jack struggled to get a look at the man, so that he could seek him out later and have his revenge. The face was angry, yet pleased at seeing him suffer. He hated that satisfaction with a violent loathing.

"_Once you talk all of this will be over. Just tell us what we want to know and the pain will stop."_

_Liar. The Chinese man should have known that out of all people, Jack Bauer, would not be so stupid and fall into that trick. Once they had what they wanted his purpose would expire and there would be no reason to keep him alive. It was the basic lesson at CTU and in life in general. You keep the status quo as long as you can._

"_You cannot possibly be waiting for your friends! They won't come and get you. You're just a dog they trained to go fetch and come when called. You're nothing more than a tool."_

_Jack hated that he was right. Why hadn't they come by now? Hadn't someone said anything? But that was his life. The mission was everything; it held priority over everything else. If the mission was compromised, if the plans fell apart, then you took the fall. A whole country couldn't take the fall, it was unheard of. Unspeakable. So you took the fall and hoped that you'd served good enough to be considered worth rescuing. That was the summary of his job. And while he was thinking all these things, someone snatched his arm and brought it near something hot. Jack tried to fight back but starvation, exhaustion, pain and generally the whole world seemed to be against him. His hand was kept there for what seemed like ages, but in reality was only seconds of blinding pain. A howl escaped his lips and his arm was dropped. The last thing he saw before merciful darkness enveloped his mind was the man throwing whatever it was that had been used to burn his hand into Jack's line of sight. It was nothing more that a stupid lighter. _

"Jack? Will you snap out of it? Have you even listened to a word I've said?"

Jack mumbled an apology, silently thanking the voice that had snapped him out of his flashback.

"What were you doing anyway?"

"Just thinking about some things."

"Really? Where have you been the past week? You're always thinking about something. Because if something is bothering you, we can always schedule another appointment with Dr. C-"

"No, I'm fine really. I was just thinking about Kim and Chloe. You know, the usual stuff."

Jack marveled that his nose didn't grow a mile and bonk the other man in the head. It was protocol that all victims of torture or other traumatic events see the department psychologist. Jack had only gone twice. The first time he'd barely talked about anything, just sat there and glared daggers at the unfortunate woman's head. The second time though, he'd blabbed through the entire session. He'd talked about his family, about his job and about how he was so glad to be back and alive that he had time for nothing else. Of course every word that came out of his mouth then, and a good portion of now, was a lie but it wasn't like he was going to be taking a lie detector test soon. If anything at all, the terrible experience in China had taught him to keep his mouth shut. And even when the woman had signed his 'he is mentally stable to get back to work' papers after much insistence, he knew that she _knew_ that he wasn't all right. In fact, everyone did. They all wanted a hero so bad that they would pretend that he was fine.

They wanted to sleep safely at night, thinking that they had someone courageous and strong fighting for them. Jack had to laugh at that one. He couldn't even guarantee his own safety half the time. But who was he to tell them otherwise? So he went along with their pretending and told them day in and day out that he was fine. It was his purpose, his reason for being. It wasn't like if he suddenly quit and moved to a peaceful village the problems wouldn't follow him there. There were too many people who would gladly pay to do what the Chinese had done and Jack couldn't blame them.

"You're just like us. We are both dogs fighting for our countries because it has to be done. We kill and destroy anything and everyone that compromises our country and its secrets. In return we get to hide in justice and righteousness, because they tell us that we are doing bad for the greater good. The only difference is that my sponsor and yours are on opposing sides. But if you look closely, they're really not that different at all. They both employ murderers and mercenaries."

And the man was so right. How many had he killed? How many times had he made another man beg and howl like he had? In fact, that's where they were going right now. Another man had been captured, suspected of holding valuable secrets and information that could help them in their investigation. The only problem was that he was keeping his mouth shut and not uttering a word. And that's when Jack remembered why he'd brought the lighter along. He flicked on the flame once more before closing it and returning it to his pocket until it was time to take it out again. He looked at the places they passed, houses and cars and fields with animals. Someone in the car said something and the others laughed. Jack laughed along, pretending to be fine, so bravely carrying on his mission.

_But who the hell am I trying to fool? I'm no hero…_

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Hoped you liked. Next will be Kim's thoughts and then Chloe's and then someone else. If I ever get that far…anyway, please review, your comments are appreciated. Did anyone hear about the 24 movie?


	2. Kim

Here's another chapter! This time it's Kim's POV. Hope you like, so please R&R!

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Kim turned in her bed again, desperately trying to snatch a few hours of sleep. Finally giving up, she got on her feet and walked to the opposite wall, trying to listen better at the cause of her insomnia. It was her dad again. She could hear him tossing and turning, mumbling something in a voice so unlike anything she had ever heard. Biting her lip, she went to her door, opened it silently and walked as slowly as possible to her father's bedroom. All that stood between her and his private hell was a few feet and a wooden door. But Kim just stood there, contemplating, as she did every other night when this happened, whether to go in or not. Of course she knew the answer even before she came out of her room. And at this unwelcome knowledge, her thoughts wondered to other things. Things like the father who seemed like a stranger more and more often. She'd been staying with him for the past few weeks, making sure that he would be all right after all that he'd gone through. He and CTU had refused to let her on to the horrible details, but she knew enough to know that her father wouldn't be all right. Knowing was different than admitting it though. And like the dutiful daughter she believed herself to be, she didn't ask questions, just like everyone else, fully aware that the answers would not be what she wanted to hear. So she stood there every night, every night she heard her father moan and whimper as he battled with his nightly demons, she would stand there and wonder whether she should go in. She knew he wasn't healing. She knew he was hurting and in pain. She knew he was scarred, and would be, for the rest of his life. And like most other nights, when she arrived at these conclusions, her mind would drift to a memory not long ago.

"_I'm just gonna go and pick up something for us to eat okay? I'll be back in a little while." Kim announced to her father, who simply nodded but said nothing. With a sigh she grabbed her keys from the small table near the door and reached out for the handle. "Do you want anything in particular? To eat I mean…" she tried again, desperate to hear, to see something of her dad, a sign of the man he used to be. Her spirit deflated though, when he just shook his head and ambled to the bathroom. Her heart suddenly quickened and she asked in a shaky voice "Where are you going dad?" She knew perfectly well, and had been informed at length by the CTU medical department, that her father could possibly be suicidal. She was shocked at first when they'd said it, and it had been a major factor in her rare stay with her dad. _

"_Just taking a shower." He responded dully, voice hoarse and dry from reasons that she didn't even want to start thinking about. Where was the strong, brave timbre that was so characteristic to his voice? Where was the assuring and confident tone that had comforted her and her mother? Kim didn't know, so she just nodded her head and went out the door, the atmosphere having suddenly become choking. She stood outside for a few minutes before going to her car and getting inside. It was only when she had started her car that she noticed she had forgotten her purse. With a huff of annoyance she exited the vehicle and went back, biting her lip at the door, pondering on when to open. She finally went in and with relief noted the sound of the water running. The relief vanished when the horrible thoughts of finding her father, submerged and wearing cuts on his wrists, invaded her mind. She ran to the bathroom door and quietly opened it a fraction large enough to see into the room. The gasp tore at her throat but she swallowed it down. Her father was standing with his back to her, towel around his waist, and fiddling with the shower knobs. But that wasn't what had caught her attention. No. It was the scars that marred her father's back that made her heart bleed and spirit sink. When she felt she could take no more of the horrible sight, she quietly closed the door and ran out of the house, purse forgotten, into her car where she cried quietly, feeling an overwhelming helplessness. _

Kim shook herself out of the painful memory and took a step in the direction of her father's door. Every night she did this. And even before she got out of bed and ended up where she was now, she knew what would happen. She knew that every time she'd just stand there and wait. Wait until her father's thrashing died down and his moans calmed. Wait until the quiet returned to tell herself that he didn't need her. That he would be all right and that everything would be fine. She would do this every night. Shroud herself, take comfort in the lie that his nightmares were lessening and that he was talking more. She wanted so badly to believe that things could get better that she did this every night until it became a routine, a normalcy in her life. Wake up, walk to his door, stand there, and wait until he went back to sleep. So the question of whether she would go into his room and be with him or not was answered even before she threw the covers back and walked out to stand by his door. And they would eat breakfast in silence and go on about their day in forced and awkward responses until night came along. And then she would get up with his occasional scream and stand by his door, as if willing her outside presence to be enough of a comfort. Kim knew she had no courage, no reserve of sacrificial strength like her father. No steadfast resolve, no mighty shield or resistance to pain. So Kim made breakfast every morning with a smile on her face and asked how her dad had slept that night. And when he answered with "I got in a good night's sleep," She would nod and tell him that she too, had slept well.

_After all _Kim thought that night, when she crawled back into bed helpless defeat and lies weighing on her shoulders, _who am I trying to fool? I'm no hero…_

So? what do you think? Chloe's POV is coming up next, though I don't know when :D. remember to review!


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